


Of Flowers and Tattoos

by elivigar



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:07:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26329882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elivigar/pseuds/elivigar
Summary: “Hi, welcome,” he says after a bit, smiling brightly when the man turns to look at him. “Can I help you with anything today?”“No, that’s alright,” the man says, returning the smile. “Just looking for some inspiration.”“Inspiration?” Calum asks, still smiling. “What for?”“Oh, you know, just… inspiration,” the guy says as he eyes a display of light yellow calla lilies by the window.In which Calum is a florist and Michael is a tattoo artist, and their paths cross.
Relationships: Michael Clifford/Calum Hood
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	Of Flowers and Tattoos

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so this was the result of me wanting to write something and asking a few pals and gals for a pairing and a prompt! What I got was Malum fluff, tattoo artist x florist, so here we go, hope y'all enjoy it♥ [ Come talk to me on tumblr if you feel like it! ](http://ashtcnirwin.tumblr.com)

The first time Calum sees Michael is on a sweltering hot day in the middle of January. 

He’s standing behind his decoration counter, working on bundling together an assortment of miscellaneously coloured roses and some greens for a bouquet. It’s been a hectic month and he can’t recall if the person who ordered the bouquet was the slick-haired twenty-something-guy who explained that he needed to make a mends to his girlfriend, or if it was the sweet older lady who wanted something nice to put on her late husband’s grave.

As he’s finishing up the bouquet, he silently hopes that it’s the latter, because truth to be told, he’s quite pleased with the result.

As he’s tying a neat silk bow around the flower stems, the store’s entrance door opens and for a moment, the noises of the bustling street outside fills his ears. Then the door closes again, and it’s quiet. Calum blinks at the man who just entered. He’s hardly the type of customer Calum usually gets, with his very… grungy sense of fashion and messy hair and tattooed arms, and so he can’t help but follow the man with his eyes.

“Hi, welcome,” he says after a bit, smiling brightly when the man turns to look at him. “Can I help you with anything today?”

“No, that’s alright,” the man says, returning the smile. “Just looking for some inspiration.”

“Inspiration?” Calum asks, still smiling. “What for?”

“Oh, you know, just… inspiration,” the guy says as he eyes a display of light yellow calla lilies by the window.

Calum doesn’t know, really; is the guy a wedding planner? Is he getting married himself? Is he hosting a fancy dinner and doesn’t know what types of flowers to put on the table? Is he a portrait painter looking to expand his horizons by painting flowers?

“Sure, yeah,” he says nonetheless, because it’s hardly his job to pry. “Let me know if you need any help.”

As the guy continues to browse, Calum throws occasional glances at him. Mostly because he’s done with the fun tasks on his list and doesn’t wanna get started on any paper work, but also because he’s curious about what, exactly, it is that this guy is looking for inspiration for. Nearly fifteen minutes pass before another word is spoken.

“What are these called?” the guy asks, effectively getting Calum’s attention.

Calum steps out from behind the counter and steps over to the guy, stopping half a metre or so away from him. “These?” he asks, gesturing towards the bouquets on the low-hanging shelf on the wall in front of them. The guy nods, and Calum says, “Peonies. Pretty common flower.”

“I wouldn’t know,” the guy says with a soft snort as he pulls a smartphone out of the back pocket of his trousers. “Dunno shit about flowers. But okay. Peonies. How do you spell that?”

Spelling the word out, Calum’s curiosity grows as the guy types in the letters, one by one, then proceeds to take a picture of the peonies. Once finished, the guy puts his phone back in his pocket, and smiles. “Thanks,” he says. They look at each other for a split second, then the guy holds out a hand and adds, “I’m Michael.”

“Calum.” They shake hands and while it’s a brief exchange of contact, Calum can’t help but notice how soft Michael’s hand is. “So… can I ask what you’re looking for inspiration for?”

“Oh, right,” Michael says, and he seems to light up for a moment, his eyes sparkling with something Calum thinks resembles joy. “I’m a tattoo artist. Got this commission from a guy who wanted a skull surrounded by, and I quote, ‘ _any type of flower except roses_ ’. And like I said, I don’t know shit about flowers, I’ve never really drawn one, not since I was in school, so here I am, looking for inspiration.”

A tattoo artist. Calum finds that far more fascinating than he has any reason whatsoever to; he doesn’t have any tattoos and has never been planning on getting any either. Yet, somehow, as Michael starts telling tales about his usual designs, which are mostly fantasy-based, he can’t help but let himself become completely immersed. Calum doesn’t know anything about either tattoos or fantasy themes - various movies, games and books, and all the creatures and weapons that come with -, and he never imagined wanting to hear anything about it either. 

But as Michael keeps talking, gesturing enthusiastically with his hands as he does, Calum listens intently. He really likes the shimmer of excitement and dedication in Michael’s eyes as he speaks, the painfully evident passion that affects his entire appearance. It’s beautiful, Calum thinks, no matter how ridiculous it might be to think so.

Michael bids his goodbyes eventually, thanking Calum with a smile before he walks out the door and disappears out of sight. And Calum remains standing where he was left, wondering exactly how odd it is to hope to see a person again who he barely knows.

*****

Hoping for it may be odd, but Calum does hope. The week passes, though, and no grungy, tattooed man steps through the doors. Calum passes the days in his usual manner; he makes bouquets and floral arrangements, he fills out invoices and he accepts online orders. It’s small, the store, so he usually works his shifts alone, save for mid-day on Fridays, when he’s joined by a colleague thanks to the high demand before the weekend. While he appreciates the company, he quite likes working alone; he likes getting to choose his own music on the radio and work with his flowers without having the process disturbed by smalltalk.

The second time he sees Michael, it’s humid and disgusting and he’s starting to prepare to close the store for the day. As he’s checking the water levels of all the flower pots and buckets, marking the ones that need filling before he leaves, the door opens with a loud ringing noise, and his head automatically turns towards it.

“Hey,” Michael says after a beat of silence. As a smile slowly spreads across his face, he walks over to Calum, stopping a mere twenty centimetres or so away from him. “Good day?”

Standing up straight and dusting off his pants, Calum smiles back. “Yeah, it’s been okay. Nothing special. What about you?”

“Very good day, actually,” Michael says as he stuffs a hand in the pocket of his jeans. A moment later, he pulls his phone out, presses the screen a few times, then holds it up for Calum to see. “Finished the piece for the guys who wanted a skull with flowers. I went with the peonies, he loved it to death.”

Inspecting the picture showcased on the phone screen, Calum can feel his smile widen. “It’s… beautiful,” he says. “Really. It looks amazing.” And it does, it’s a lovely piece of art tattooed on the guy’s back, intricate and delicate in its details, rough and feminine at the same time.

“Thanks, I just… wanted to show you,” Michael says as he puts his phone back in his pocket. “You know, since you helped me out.”

“Not like I did much,” Calum laughs. “You asked for the name of a flower and I answered.”

Michael shrugs his shoulders. “And if you hadn’t answered, I’d have no idea what the flower of my choice was called and I’d therefore struggle to find references for the art piece. So, you did help me out.”

Calum ducks his head for a second, then clears his throat. “Pretty much my job, isn’t it?”

“Helping people who only step into the store to look and not buy?” Michael asks, raising an eyebrow. His eyes are soft and warm, though.

“I like flowers,” Calum says, pursing his lips. “Fair enough that answering your questions doesn’t attract business, but I like doing it.” He hesitates for a blink. “And I like seeing the result that my… answer produced. It’s nice, expands my knowledge base, you know?”

Michael’s expression is inscrutable, but his eyes are as kind as ever, bright and attentive as he regards Calum. “It’s not that different, you know,” he says. “I make creations with inked lines, you make them with physical objects, but we both have to visualise before we start working.”

It’s not untrue, what Michael says, but Calum reckons it’s quite a statement for him to be able to drag out of his ass on a second’s notice. Not that it’s a bad thing; he just finds it unusual and… well, impressive.

“Suppose that’s true,” he says with a soft laugh, eyes downcast. “I like that insight.”

“Yeah?” Michael says, smile widening. “Okay. Good.” Before Calum gets the chance to think of a clever response, Michael turns on his heel and says, “See you around, Calum.” And then, without any further ado, he’s out the door and gone.

*****

The third time Calum sees Michael, it’s closing in on Valentine’s Day, and his work days have become increasingly busier for a solid week or so.

It’s about twenty-five minutes left until the store closes and Calum is working on a bouquet that’s set to be picked up at closing time. He quite adored the theme for the bouquet when the order came in yesterday afternoon, so he wanted to make it himself, thus having told his co-worker that he could go home a few minutes earlier.

The bouquet consists mostly of basic light pink roses and some greens, but the person who ordered them requested dark pink peonies to be thrown in as well. While the idea isn’t original, Calum finds it lovely, so he works meticulously as he cuts the stems and places the flowers and greens in a pleasing manner. He declares the result pretty near perfect a few minutes before closing time, and gets started on wrapping the bouquet in cellophane, tying it together with a dusty green silk ribbon.

Just as he’s putting the bouquet away and starts cleaning up the desk, the front door opens with a soft click. Expecting it to be the person who ordered the bouquet, Calum’s surprised, but silently happy, to realise that it’s Michael. 

“Hi,” he says. “You making a deliberate habit of coming in right before I lock the doors?”

Michael laughs as he approaches the desk. Perching his elbows on it, he looks at Calum. “Nah, just picking up an order, actually,” he says. “Pink roses and some dark peonies.”

Calum’s heart shouldn’t drop into his stomach at that, but it does. It’s stupid, because it’s not like Michael ever even explictly flirted with him. He can’t help the heavy feeling in his chest, though. Nevertheless, he keeps a straight face and smiles. “Right, yeah,” he says as he reaches for the bouquet underneath the desk. “I just finished making it, actually, but didn’t know it was you who’d ordered it.”

“What, you don’t look at the names of your orders?” Michael says as he accepts the bouquet.

“Not always, depends on who processes the order,” Calum says with a smile that feels just the faintest bit strained.

“Ah, right,” Michael says. “Been busy lately? Valentine’s is pretty busy in the floral business, yeah?”

“Yeah, no shit,” Calum says, chuckling. “Been making so many rose bouquets the last week that it’s a miracle I only have one thorn scratch.”

“While I’ve been doing a stupid amount of rose tattoos the last week,” Michael says, grinning. “Two peas in a pod.”

“In a way, I guess,” Calum says, as it’s all he can think to say.

They fall into silence for a beat or two after that, until Michael clears his throat. “So… you got plans for Valentine’s?” he asks.

Calum smiles crookedly and shakes his head. “Nah. I have the day off, but probably just gonna stay at home with my dog and watch bad TV and eat pizza.”

“Oh.” Once again, the store falls into silence. Michael looks slightly nervous for whatever reason. “Do you… don’t you want something to do?”

Shrugging, Calum starts cleaning the desk. “Haven’t really thought about it. I wouldn’t say no if someone asked me out, but-”

“Great!” Michael cuts in, and when Calum looks at him, he’s smiling from ear to ear. “Wanna have dinner with me, then?”

“You- what?” Staring at Michael’s face for a moment, then at the bouquet in his hand, then back at his face, Calum frowns. “Kinda seems like you already have someone to give flowers to. And have dinner with.”

“Oh, right, that,” Michael says with a small cough. Stepping around the counter to stand in front of Calum, he holds out the bouquet. “Wanna be my Valentine?”

Calum’s brain seems to have turned into a cloud. “Huh?”

“Do you wanna be my Valentine?” Michael repeats, this time with a smile so wide it’s threatening to split his face. When Calum simply continues to eye him, he adds, “I didn’t… I didn’t, like, order this for someone else, if that’s what you’re thinking. Just figured it might be a smooth move or something to ask you out like this.”

The cloud in Calum’s head vanishes like dew before the sun at that, and he barks out a laugh. “You… you wanted to ask me out, so instead of just doing it, you had me make my own Valentine’s bouquet?” he asks.

“I thought it was cute,” Michael says easily. “Original, innit?”

“I’d love to fight you on it, but I’ve never been asked out like that before, so… yeah, it’s original,” he says as he accepts the bouquet.

Michael bites his lip and takes a step closer to Calum. “Is that a yes?” he asks.

A warm feeling spreads from Calum’s chest and throughout his entire body, and he can’t help the incredulous laugh that tumbles over his lips as he closes in the last distance between himself and Michael. Pressing his forehead against Michael’s, he says, “Yeah, I’d love to have dinner with you. On Valentine’s, of all days.”

“Romantic, yeah?” Michael asks as he places his hands tentatively on Calum’s waist.

“Hard to argue with it, I guess,” Calum says. When Michael merely hums in response, Calum draws a deep breath and wraps his arms around his shoulders. “Is it gonna ruin the romance of that Valentine’s date if we kiss right now?”

“Forward,” Michael says, but his hands clutch onto Calum’s waist. “I like it, though. And no, I don’t think it’s gonna ruin anything.”

Calum smiles and bites his lower lip, doing his very best to tame the butterflies in his stomach as he closes in the distance between himself and Michael to press their lips together. Their lips move against one another, soft and innocent and gentle, for God knows how long, before they break apart.

“Still want that date, or did it ruin everything?” Michael asks.

“You’re hilarious,” Calum snorts, brushing a barely-there kiss against Michael’s jaw before pulling back to be able to look him in the eyes. Michael’s smiling like Christmas just came early, and the mere sight of it makes the already intense fire in Calum’s chest shoot sparks. Actual sparks.

“Okay, flower boy,” Michael says. “I’ve gotta go, got some errands to run before all the stores close, but if you check the order details for that bouquet, you’ll find my number, so… why don’t you save it and make a move when you feel like it, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Calum says, a little more breathlessly than he’s quite proud of. “I’ll do that. Definitely.”

“Preferably before Valentine’s, though. I’ve already got a reservation and I’d hate to let it go to waste.”

Calum snorts. “Okay, sure, Casanova. Go run your errands and I’ll talk to you later.”

Michael’s only answer is a gentle clutch of Calum’s waist, then he’s out the door. Unlike the two previous times he’s seen Michael exit that exact door, Calum’s not filled with a sense of faint sadness this time.

Strictly speaking, he has another bouquet he should finish up before he goes home for the evening, but all he seems to be able to focus on is the bouquet in his hand. Michael’s design and his own craftsmanship.

The other bouquet can wait until the morning.


End file.
